


poppies (when your lips are like)

by sevdrag (seventhe)



Series: Dumpsterverse [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Punisher (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: #givefrankthed2020, #givefrankthedfor15seconds, Bottom Frank Castle, Dumpsterverse, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag
Summary: what happens when Frank and Matt collide for the first time.  (Dumpsterverse smut.)
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: Dumpsterverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775665
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100
Collections: Fratt Week





	poppies (when your lips are like)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feathers_and_cigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/gifts).



> look just blame my murder husband and hush okay this is technically for Fratt Week even though it's the week after _stop looking at me_
> 
> absolutely based on [poppies by KNGDAVD](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwZhi4Lpiag) please listen to it before/while reading lmao

_Against the bar, I found the cure  
From your lips, the liters fall  
Every drop, I want you more  
Every time you take a sip you get my blood boiling  
  
Get your coat, let's hit the road  
Grab the stick, take control  
I tip my glass, we need to go  
Every time you bite my lip you get my blood boiling  
  
Take off your clothes let me ravish your body  
I don't need drugs when your lips are like poppies  
Drowning in sheets is my new favorite hobby  
Booze up your breath tell me how bad you want me  
  
Ohhhh, I'm about to let go  
Only if you say so  
I'm sold out on the kiss with your hands on my hips  
  
Ohhhh, my hearts about to explode  
Come on and just let me go  
I'm sold out on the kiss with your hands on my hips?  
  
Catch your breath, let's go again  
Another round, take a spin  
Anything you wanna do, baby I'm in  
  
Take off your clothes let me ravish your body  
I don't need drugs when your lips are like poppies  
Drowning in sheets is my new favorite hobby  
Booze up your breath tell me how bad you want me  
  
Ohhhh, I'm about to let go  
Only if you say so  
I'm sold out on the kiss with your hands on my hips  
  
Ohhhh, my hearts about to explode  
Come on and just let me go  
I'm sold out on the kiss with your hands on my hips_

———

The thing about Frank Castle is —

_(Frank’s mouth is hot: Matt’s skin’s on fire with it, with every bruise Frank’s sucking into his collarbone, and even though he won’t be able to see them he fucking hopes Frank is leaving marks, like burns, as a trail across his body.)_

— the thing is, Frank Castle is apparently one of the few things that can overwhelm Matt’s senses nearly completely. 

He had no idea until right now, this moment, when Frank’s got him splayed across the bed on his back, and Matt’s so fucking hard he honestly isn’t sure he’d hear it if the entire Hand were to come through his goddamn window playing trombones and harmonicas.

The more important bit is, he isn’t really sure he cares.

———

Matt has his fingers gripped into Frank’s hair as the other man makes his way down his bare chest. He wouldn’t have taken Frank for so much of a mouth man, but Frank’s being pretty deliberate and meticulous as he moves from the tendon of Matt’s neck to his collarbone and then down to bite at a nipple. Matt’s used to communicating in noises but he’s even louder than usual, because he can hear and feel the way Frank reacts to it: heart speeding up, breath catching, fingers twitching. It’s a beautiful thing the way Frank responds, and it makes Frank’s more lips more brutal against Matt’s skin, and that’s just the way the fire rises.

His own heart is nearly as loud as Frank’s, thudding in his chest, like the part-counterpart of a song.

Frank licks roughly up Matt’s other nipple and Matt gasps — yes, he’s being extra-vocal for Frank’s sake, but _hell_ he really can’t stop himself either. He can nearly taste Frank’s arousal in the air, as hard as he’s breathing, and there’s just so much heat emanating from both of them that it’s dripping, congealing into Matt’s nose until all he can smell is the mix of himself and Frank, pungent and delicious. 

Then Frank fucking sinks his teeth into Matt’s abs and Matt jerks, arcing upwards, the noise he makes at that point so much more of a moan. 

“Heh.” Frank smiles against his skin, and somehow Matt knows he’s doing it deliberately, so that Matt can feel it — what the fuck. “Somebody likes it a bit rough.”

“Somebody is about to flip you over and fuck you into this mattress,” Matt growls, and he meant it as the kind of sexy talk you sometimes do in the heat of the moment but he can fucking _hear_ the way Frank’s heart thuds, _hard,_ almost skipping a beat or three, and Matt chuckles even as Frank swears into the skin of his belly.

“Seems to me like that’s a good idea,” he says.

Frank makes a noise in the back of his throat and continues down, until his teeth are nipping along the waistband of Matt’s silky boxer-briefs. “Yeah, maybe,” Frank tells him, and then his hands are tracing down Matt’s sides to hook onto the band and tug them down, not at all gently. “But not yet, Red.”

The scrape of the elastic against his cock is the right kind of friction; Matt groans when afterwards his dick springs free of the fabric. Frank leaves them high on his thighs for a minute and Matt can - fucking - Matt can _feel_ Frank chuckling about it as he licks a long sloppy stripe up Matt’s cock.

And Matt hopes he’ll be forgiven as he moans _Holy shit_ out loud, because if Frank’s mouth was hot on his own and fire on his skin, it’s a fucking explosion along the sensitive nerves of his cock. Frank laughs again, all low in his throat and husky, and Matt can hear his own blood rushing in his ears on top of the roaring tide coming from Frank.

Matt realizes suddenly that he is _way_ too close to just going off. Right here. Now.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches for Frank, trying to insinuate by grabbing gesture what he wants; as usual Frank reads him - Frank always reads him - and crawls up Matt’s body to take his mouth. At this point Matt can tell - the heat rolling off of him, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, the sloppiness in the way Frank’s kissing him - that Frank’s losing control as well. 

And, well, fuck, they’ve certainly been playing at this long enough that their first time can certainly be expected to be explosive, but after the way Frank reacted Matt will be _fucked_ if he doesn’t get his dick into the other man even if it ends up being his shortest sex record of all time.

As such he surges up against Frank, biting at the other man’s lower lip, tugging with his teeth, and when he senses that Frank’s distracted enough Matt rolls them over on the bed until he’s on top, braced on his elbows, both hands keeping Frank still as Matt kisses and licks at his mouth. 

He can feel Frank’s heartbeat — settle? Oh, _oh._

“Yeah?” Matt asks him, grinding his dick into Frank, enjoying the texture of cotton and the hard heat underneath. He slips a hand down between them, palms at Frank’s cock through the fabric, and the noise Frank makes starts in his belly and hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck you, Red,” Frank breathes, but his hips are bucking up into the flat of Matt’s palm.

Matt grins at him. It feels wild and feral on his face and he can hear the way Frank’s eyes shut at it. “Yeah,” he says, “alright.”

He doesn’t have to shift his weight too far off of Frank to find the drawer in his side table. The lube and the condoms are easy enough to find - he doesn’t keep much there, on purpose - and he passes the foil packet over to Frank’s hand as he rocks back on his heels.

“Take those off,” Matt says, the beat of an order in his voice. There’s a moment where he’s - it isn’t worried, but - he’s waiting to see whether Frank wants to fight or obey. Either one is alright, it’ll just change Matt’s own approach to this, and he waits to see…

Frank makes a noise and Matt can hear the bed groan as Frank’s hips tip up. He hears fingers gathering fabric, and the noise as Frank works the boxers down one long leg and then the other.

It rushes to Matt’s head like a fever, knowing Frank’s going to play along with this: knowing that Frank wants the same thing he wants, even if it’s going to be scorchingly short. Matt uncaps the lube, making as much noise as possible, and hisses: “Is this alright?”

Whatever thing Frank tries to say catches in his throat, and Matt can hear as it works it way out. “Red, fuck, hurry it up.” Frank exhales a long deep breath. “For fuck’s sake.”

Matt slicks up both hands with lube. It’s easier for him to work with a bunch of it rather than having to hunt the bottle down during. He lets the draw of heat from Frank’s groin guide his hands, fingers teasing slick lines along the skin of his balls, until he gets his bearings and presses a finger up against the pucker of Frank’s hole. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t trace circles: just lets it rest, firm but not overbearing pressure, and he waits.

Frank groans, and his hips move under Matt, and his hands come up to play: one of them grabbing and tugging Matt’s hair, the other one tracing from the lines of his jaw down his chest until Frank’s pressing a thumb into Matt’s nipple, in a similar manner; except that Frank’s pressing in, hard and hot, and Matt groans because the sensation feels like there are ripples spreading from that heated pressure across his chest and down into his own cock.

“Fine,” Matt grunts, and his finger slips in: it’s gentle but not at all slow and the noise Frank makes is absolutely entirely worth it. 

“Fuck.” It’s choked out of Frank’s throat, sharp and brief the way their mid-battle communications end up, and the way it reminds Matt of their fighting has him even harder. He can feel the slick dripping from his dick and he knows he’s ready to go, but as much as he wants to take the Punisher rough and hard there’s a part of him crooked up around his spine that doesn’t ever want to hurt Frank at all.

Frank grunts, and then says, “Go ahead,” in this gravelly voice Matt isn’t sure he’s heard before, and it makes his senses white out for a second with the pure _want_ inside of it. “Hurry it up, I’m not delicate.”

Matt hums in the back of his throat but he does press two fingers in: again, unrelenting but not harsh, and he lets them rest inside of Frank while he listens to the air panting in and out of the other man’s lungs. His senses are starting to cloud, all of them, everything wrapping up in the singular sensation of anticipation: his hearing is focused on the noise of his own heart, Frank’s heartbeat, the noises of Frank moving against the sheets. His nose is filled with the scent of Frank: sweat, and fresh soap, and a musk Matt can only assume is Frank’s own want. His skin is full to bubbling, and the second he lets his mouth work against Frank’s again, Matt is going to be lost in the dark.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Murdock,” Frank says — and then, choking as Matt crooks his fingers up: _“Matt.”_ It’s a hiss, a whimper, a demand, and Matt drags his fingers out slowly, making sure they’re pressing upwards as he does.

“Go on,” he prods Frank, and he can hear the rustle of the foil package, and can feel through the air as Frank’s hands come up to wrap the condom around him.

“Right,” Frank says, rolling the plastic down all the way to the base of Matt’s cock — which he wraps his fingers around, squeezing almost harshly before he drops his hand to press up against Matt’s balls. “C’mon, Red.”

“Oh, hell,” Matt ends up saying as he lines himself up and pushes in. He can feel Frank’s legs lifted around him, ready to wrap around his hips; he can hear Frank’s harsh breathing getting more and more desperate. “Hell. Fuck.” This is going to be the shortest eternity of all time.

Matt pulls out and then scrapes back in, his own hips jaggedly working their way inside. He’s already shuddering. This is going to be _splinteringly_ short.

He had no idea Frank Castle would fill up all of his senses like this. It’s like overloading a speaker, until the only thing that rings out of it is a thick, dense feedback, too loud and harsh to be anything but an overwrought squeal along his nerves. He had no idea Frank could, effectively, drown out all of Matt’s secret alarms, all of the separate bits and pieces he tries to keep monitoring his senses twenty-four-seven, the ways he has to pay attention to make up for the red-black swirling behind his eyes. He had no idea. Frank. It’s incandescent.

And so Matt shoves himself home with a noise that’s as desperate as it is possessive. Frank just exhales, long and slow, his hips twitching as Matt buries himself deep.

Matt brings his head down to the pillow next to Frank’s. Frank turns into Matt, and Matt cranes his neck so that they are more-or-less looking at each other; he can feel Frank’s face, as well as he might see it. How is it that he’s balls-deep inside of Frank and it’s the expression he can feel coming off of Frank’s face that’s the most vulnerable thing here? One of Matt’s hands is braced on the bed next to Frank’s shoulder; he brings the other one, still slick, down to wrap around Frank’s cock.

“Jesus, Red,” Frank murmurs, and Matt would say a rosary except that he’s so far beyond thinking right now.

He starts pumping Frank’s cock through his fist, his own hips only moving in small shallow thrusts. He learns that Frank’s dick is thicker than he expected - Frank and Matt are a similar size, even though they’re built completely differently - and that there’s a delightful ridge to it up at the head that makes Frank breathe out in an unexpected wheeze. Matt keeps his thumb working at that bit, letting his fingers ripple along the length of Frank’s cock. 

It’s a delightful process: Matt’s cock buried inside of Frank, all tense and tight and hot, and his fingers wrapped around the thick length of Frank; every time he lets his slick hand slip up and drag down he can feel Frank clenching around him and, well, _fuck._ It’s a _goddamn_ feedback loop. Sex always is, to Matt’s senses, but he’s never been quite this buried in his own fucking sensory overload.

“Red,” Frank growls, “you gotta move, or I’m gonna turn this all over.”

Well, _fuck._

Matt speeds his hand up and starts moving, then. He knows he has to keep his pace slow or else this will be over before he can spell Castle’s last name; that being said, he can already feel-see the bright light that’s building behind his eyes, the brimming of his own orgasm lapping at the edges of his senses.

“More,” Frank hisses. “More.”

Matt’s hand is pumping now. He wants to get Frank off, blisteringly hot, wants to hear him have one of those sharp fast orgasms that happen when you can’t wait. Frank, gasping in-between breaths, seems to agree. Matt’s cock is sliding into Frank and out even faster, though, his own overstimulation slicking the way until every time he pulls out he can tell there’s liquid dripping down Frank’s tender skin — 

—and then it’s all just a _bit_ too much, the way Frank makes a noise and brings his own hand down to rest on top of Matt’s, and Matt’s non-vision _splinters:_ he can’t really tell, but it’s white and sharp and red back behind his eyelids, or at least it feels like that. He can feel himself pumping hot liquid into Frank, hips moving to their own jagged rhythm, and his forehead comes down to rest on Frank’s chest; he’s breathing so hard he feels like he’s just taken on twenty men in a fight. 

But Frank keeps his hand moving, and he’s muttering things - “Oh, fuck, Red,” and “yeah, fuck, just like that” - and Matt’s only just starting to soften inside him as Frank fucking chokes and comes. Hot slick ropes shoot up over their joined hands, and Frank clenches around Matt, and in this stage of oversensitivity it draws something needy and babbling from Matt’s throat.

_Fuck._

By the time Matt’s senses catch up to the rest of him, Frank is chuckling beneath him, low and breathy and _pleased_ in a way Matt absolutely hasn’t ever heard from Castle in the entire time they’ve known each other.

“Christ, Red.” Matt’s ear is up against Frank’s chest, and he can hear the rumbling in his throat, the way his lungs are pushing the air out as he makes the words from his mouth. “You’re a goddamned firecracker.”

Matt figured that’s a polite way to say _fast and explosive._ One of these days - assuming he has the chance - he’s gonna work Frank Castle to orgasm just on his fingers. It’s gonna last for at least an hour, and Matt’s going to imprint every single second of it into his brain.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Matt asks instead, trying to hide the fact that he’s still catching his breath. 

“Murdock.” Frank breathes, heavy and thick. “Shut up.”

One of Frank’s big hands comes up to cup the back of Matt’s head. Matt shifts, letting his softening cock slide out of Frank, and they both make a noise as Frank’s hand brings Matt down to rest on his shoulder.

Matt’s senses are trying to boot up from their blue-screen crash. But his skin is full of Frank: the sweaty, sensitive press of Frank up beneath him. His nose can only smell their spend; his mouth is full of the taste he’s breathing in from Frank’s shoulder. He’s trying, _trying,_ he’s fucking vulnerable — but that’s the Punisher’s big hand around his skull, and Frank’s other hand comes to sit heavy in the curve of Matt’s lower back, and Matt can suddenly feel his spine relax into it in a way he’s really never done before.

“There you go, Red.” Frank’s basically purring beneath him, and Matt’s muscles go languid at it. “There you go.”

“What the fuck,” Matt mutters, but his body is relaxing into it anyway. He’s never fucking let this happen before. Shit, he might fall asleep. His skin is vibrating against Frank’s, and it’s resonating, working together to calm both of their shuddering.

Frank laughs. “Let it go, Red.” He curls in, his palms bringing Matt even closer, and Matt breathes. He has never ever let himself drown in the sheets this way: he’s so wary around people, knowing he has to be instinctively aware. But the way Frank weighs on his senses is calming, stable, and Matt actually exhales into Frank’s skin and lets himself sink.

He feels - addicted, and safe, and ravished - and Matt lets his useless eyelids fall, knowing he’s going to fall asleep on top of Frank Castle and probably drool, and he’s already gotten over it.

**Author's Note:**

> please come friend me on tumblr ([sevdrag](https://sevdrag.tumblr.com/)) and yell about these assholes thank


End file.
